All Things American
by daiyaonna
Summary: Something's bothering Brad, and who else to discover what it is than...Schuldig?


Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. No profit is gained from this, either.

Author's Note: Just a random drabble I couldn't help writing. Enjoy the terrible humor.

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_**All Things American**_

Schuldig stretched lazily and yawned, running a hand through mussed orange hair. When he managed to open his eyes, he realized that he was alone. Yet, he hadn't fallen asleep that way, and that infamous smirk slid onto his face at the thought.

Sex was good. He liked sex because it was fun and relaxing. He lost himself for that single moment in time and didn't have to remember he was a German assassin with telepathy for a sidekick. Sex was just _that_ good, but…

Sex with Brad was beyond words.

It was slow, fast, planned, sporadic. Beyond that, it was satisfying, and he didn't have to block out the emotions that didn't belong to him. Brad was quiet, and he was grateful for it.

"The prince finally wakes," a low voice whispered from somewhere in the room, and Schuldig jerked his head toward the sound, feeling a bit out of place before recognizing who it was.

Naked from the waist up…

Handsome face devoid of glasses…

Orgasmic honey eyes…staring at him…

The German couldn't stop himself from grinning insanely as he gazed at his lover, and then, he frowned, immediately identifying _that_ look. He knew that look, knew it **very** well.

Something was bothering Brad.

"By himself," he muttered shortly after, running fingers through the thick mane of hair tumbling over his shoulders. Crawford watched him, unusually quiet, and then, he was there, looming over him, piercing him to the core with _that_ look. Schuldig pouted as an after thought before reaching out to him, wanting to be held. Despite public opinion, he liked cuddling, and cuddling with Brad made him feel wanted.

He liked the way Brad made him feel.

"Feeling needy?" the other asked, not bothering to acknowledge his silent wish. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed, absently running the tips of his fingers over the telepath's naked thighs. Schuldig shivered.

"Maybe," he murmured softly, blue eyes curiously observing what the other was doing to him. It was tempting him to do…things, things he _knew_ Brad would like. "But when am I not?"

Schuldig caught the American's gaze and smiled carefully. He knew better than to be sarcastic or overly witty when Brad was using the _look_. The thought almost made him laugh, but he bit his lip instead, keeping himself silent.

Crawford took it as an invitation and trailed his hand nimbly over bare flesh until he reached the German's face. He cupped his chin.

"I refuse to answer that question." He pulled Schuldig closer, their breath mingling. "Can I kiss you?"

The telepath blinked at him, caught off guard by the question, but he quickly recovered, scooting beside him to wrap his arms around Brad's neck.

"You're past asking, you know," he answered, nuzzling the other's nose with his own.

"I know. It's just-" Schuldig cut him off with his mouth, pressing their lips together. Taking even more initiative, he probed with his tongue until Brad hesitantly opened to him and explored already familiar territory with renewed passion, purring softly in his throat. Eventually, he drew away, snickering.

"You Americans and your insecurities," he teased, reveling in the expression on his lover's face. It was part amused, part…something else. He couldn't quite place it.

"I'm not insecure," Brad replied after a moment, sweeping warm fingers over Schuldig's cheek. "It's etiquette. I like to know when I'm crossing lines I shouldn't be crossing."

"Oh. Is that it?" Schuldig maneuvered so that he was sitting in Brad's lap, arms still draped on his shoulders. "Insecure etiquette then," he offered, hoping to dissolve the _look_ soon.

It was starting to wear his nerves thin.

"Whatever." Crawford pressed against the German's chest, pushing him so that he ended up on sprawled on his back. "I'm not in the mood for your games this morning."

Schuldig scrambled into a sitting position, huffing.

Hot, cold. Hot, cold. He could **never** make up his mind!

"Not in the mood?" he quipped, glaring as best he could without shifting into full-blown anger. "What about you!"

Glazed brown eyes glanced at him.

"What are you getting at?"

"You were moping before I woke up. That's what I'm getting at." Crawford glowered at him.

"I told you to stay out of my head."

"I've never been in your head," the German countered, crawling forward until he was back where he'd originally been. Brad didn't seem pleased at all. "It's easy to tell when something's bothering you."

"And how's that?"

"You start asking questions. Stupid, irrelevant questions." Crawford looked away, staring at dresser on the opposite side of the room. "BBBRRRAAADDD!"

"Don't call me that."

"Why not?" Schuldig latched himself to his lover. "It's your name, isn't it?" There was silence. "Would you rather me call you something else?" When he didn't get an answer, he thought about it. "What about pickle? Or cake? Hot dog?" The telepath trailed off and began laughing…almost hysterically.

Crawford looked at him, alarmed.

"What's so funny?"

"The name…" Suddenly, Schuldig went silent, his expression as serious as it had been a few seconds ago, and Crawford was instantly aware of the predatory haze in his eyes.

"What is it now?"

"Would you like it if I called you that?"

"Hot dog?"

"You know," he continued, ignoring the fact Brad had just spoken. "As we got each other off." To demonstrate his point, he slithered his hand between them and brushed lightly across his lover's groin.

"Do you have to put it so crudely?" Schuldig did it again, a little firmer in the touch than before, and Crawford grabbed his elbow. "Stop that."

"Not until you tell me what's wrong," he answered, wiggling free of the hold and latching his mouth to the side of Brad's neck, sucking softly. A muffled groan escaped Brad's throat.

"You Germans and your stubbornness," he muttered after a moment, unable to resist the urge to rub his hands up Schuldig's back and wrap them in tendrils of fiery orange. He pulled gently, a faint popping sound echoing in the room as he detached Schuldig from his skin.

A leery grin was on the telepath's lips when he managed to look at him.

"Nope. That's just _me_." Schuldig pouted again. "Tell me what's wrong." After a minute of complete silence, an alarmed expression filtered across his face. "Is it about…us?"

"No." Brad's voice was harsh, as if he reprimanded him for thinking such a thing. "It's…nothing."

"BBBRRRAAADDD-"

"Don't push it, Schuldig."

"I'm not pushing. I'm just curious."

Crawford snorted.

"And curiosity killed the cat," he replied, trying not to chuckle despite the priceless look of confusion Schuldig was giving him.

"Eh? Cat?" Blue eyes widened at the thought. "This doesn't have anything to _do_ with cats, does it?" There was another smirk, more vicious, more knowing. "Weiß cats?" Brad said nothing, and the German clapped his hands like an amused child. "It _does_! You just found out about Nagi's little crush, didn't you?"

"You _knew_?"

"Of course." He tapped his temple. "He doesn't have the mental strength to kick me out like you do. Don't be upset." Schuldig wrapped him in a tight embrace. "He didn't tell you because you would be…angry."

"That's hardly the word for it," Brad commented, caressing the small of his back.

"_I_ didn't tell you because that would have been mean."

"You? Not meddling? I hardly believe _that_." The German pulled back to look at him.

"What can I say? I like the runt." Schuldig smiled. "Or maybe I just wanted to see how deep a hole he dug."

"Ah. That sounds more like you."

"Good." Schuldig nuzzled Brad's face. "Can we have sex now? I'm tired of talking."

Brad grabbed the back of the telepath's neck, kissing him deeply, probing with his tongue. He didn't taste like he normally did, all cigarettes and smoke, but there was something addicting about this morning flavor he just couldn't get enough of.

"You're offer sounds…nice, but I'm afraid I have to decline," he whispered against Schuldig's open mouth, dragging himself away from the exotic sight of pale naked skin and wildly flaming hair.

"Wh-what?" Schuldig blinked, trying to register the words in his fuzzy brain. Was Brad actually _refusing_ to have sex with him? When Brad pushed him away and stood, it clicked.

He **was** refusing.

"You should have told me," he explained, turning his back so his lover couldn't see the smile working its way onto his face.

"B-but-"

"No sex. Your punishment." Small words worked exceedingly well on a bewildered Schuldig, and he watched as the American left the room, still half-dressed, still missing his glasses. The German realized he was gritting his teeth after a moment and tried breathing as calmly as he could.

Arrogant American Bastard.

All he'd wanted was a little-

Schuldig scrabbled out of the bed as quickly as he could, running after his lover. He didn't care that he was naked.

"Wait. Brad. I'm sorry!" he wailed, desperate to apologize and get some.

Of all the things about his lover, he hated his foresight the most. He'd _known_ that would happen. He'd seen it coming.

Then again, of all the things about his lover, he _liked_ his foresight, too. The teasing. The games. The sex, when they had it.

It was nice.

Perhaps Brad being American wasn't as bad as he thought. Not really.

Schuldig grinned and continued searching.

_**End**_


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